


This I Know

by Achrya



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark Tony Stark, Gaslighting, M/M, Omega Verse, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18627064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Achrya
Summary: Tony Stark is in Peter’s apartment, talking about grants and emails and Peter has no idea what he’s talking about but he’s willing to play along because it’s Tony Stark! Everything seems to be going well...until the man realizes Peter is an omega. A young, unmarked, unmarked omega with no alpha head of family, playing Hero.That. That changes everything.





	This I Know

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into Starker and naturally I decided to make it fucky. Ah well. It’s what I’m good at. Starts out following Civil War, will diverge. 
> 
> We’re gonna say Peter is a solid 16 here. Because reasons.

Peter had been having a pretty good day, by his standards. He managed to catch the train on time both too and from school, found an abandoned DVD player he was already dreaming of breaking into and pulling apart for parts, and he’d killed his Algebra II test. He hadn’t seen anything calling for Spiderman intervention either, which was nice since it was a school day and he really needed to stop ditching class to go on two period long bathroom breaks. People were starting to talk and life was hard enough without people trying to figure out where he was vanishing to for hours a time. 

So. Good day. Right up until he’d come to fine Tony Stark, the Tony Stark, genius, actual superhero on a level Peter could barely wrap his brain around (he stopped traffic accidents and stopped purse snatchers, Stark saved the world from alien invasions! There was, maybe, a slight gap in scale was all he was saying.) billionaire, visionary and- it was a lot. He was a lot. And there he was, sitting on the worn couch in Peter’s apartment, helping himself to Aunt May’s cookies and drinking out of one of her ‘company’ coffee cups, looking for all the world like this wasn’t the most surreal moment of Peter’s life. 

Which it was, and that was saying something considering that he’d been bitten by a spider and had powers now. He was living surreal, okay, he was sticking to walls and it seemed like every other day was marked by discovering something else weird about his condition or finding that he was even stronger than he thought or a weird urge that could either be his impending presentation or spiderjunk but who could tell anymore with how mixed up everything was? Did he look at annoying alphas on the train and want to rip off their heads because he was going through a ‘phase’ an omega or, like, unfortunate arachnide instincts? 

(As long as never felt the urge to eat anyone he figured he was fine. Probably. Hopefully.) 

Tony Stark was saying something about a grant and winking at him and Peter did not know what to do with that. Had he applied for a grant? He didn’t think he had. As much as he looked up to Stark, and followed his career what some judgemental people might have called obsessively, he wouldn’t do something like that now. That would call attention to him, even if just a little, and that was something he couldn’t afford now. He was all about keeping a low profile and going unnoticed these days. 

Or well, for his whole life but on purpose now. 

“You didn’t tell me about a grant.” Aunt May said, eyes flicking towards Stark. There was something pinched about her expression, a tightness at the corner of her mouth and eyes. “Or that you’ve been emailing Tony Stark. You’re keeping secrets now?” 

Yes.

“No!” Peter lurched forward in alarm, shaking his head vehemently then, when her eyebrows lifted, groped for an explanation. “I just know you like surprises so I wanted to...tell you once it was...worked out?” 

Lame, so lame. If anything she just looked more doubtful as she once again glanced sideways at Stark. Her mouth turned down into a hard frown and that wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all. He didn’t know what was going on here but he absolutely didn’t want his aunt to throw Tony Stark out of the apartment before he found out what it was. He needed to distract her, to deflect her attention away from his terrible attempts at lying on the spot. 

“Uh this grant. Is there money attached to it or-” 

Stark blinked at him, looking something other than bemused for a second before shrugging. “It’s very well funded but we can hash out the details-”

“Oh right. Hash it out.” Peter said, nodding. 

“Now, maybe. You can show me some of that stuff you said you were working on. In the emails.” This was said with a pointed looking in the general direction of Peter’s room and another raise of the eyebrows. Peter stared blankly for a second, how did Stark know where his room was, then noting his aunt’s eyes narrowing jumped into action. 

“Right right. Um, we can talk and I can...show you stuff. In my room. We’ll be back Aunt May.” 

Stark stood smoothly but Aunt May started to stand as well, brows furrowed. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Why don’t you-”

“It’s fine.” Peter said, already back in the hallway and waving absently over his shoulder. Stark came around from the living room, long strides eating up what distance was before them. “It won’t take long.” 

“But-” Peter pushed his door shut on his aunt’s protest, feeling only a twinge of guilt. Whatever was happening wasn’t meant for her to hear, it seemed, and he hated to keep more secrets from her but he was starting to get more used to it. It was for her own good, and fine maybe his own a little bit by proxy. A little bit. 

“Retro tech.” Stark said, drawing Peter’s attention back to him. The man was peering curiously at the odds and ends Peter had taking up his entire desk, flicking at a loose wise. Peter slipped closer, trying to get a read on Stark’s face. Was he...impressed? Amused? Bored? “Second hand store? Goodwill?”

“Ah, dumpster actually.” Peter admitted, sheepishly. He was sure someone like Stark had never climbed his way into a dumpster to scrounge around for parts but it was something Peter did pretty often. When he’d gotten interested in engineering and inventing and electronics he’d gone on a tear, taking apart everything in the apartment but unable to figure out how to fix anything. Ben and May had been...not happy, and placed a ban on using their stuff for his experiments, and he hadn’t had the money to buy things so he’d gone out and found what he needed. 

It worked well. The trash was always full of stuff he could use, though it was less about taking things apart to see how they worked and put them back together and more about cannibalizing for parts to create these days. 

“You dumpster dive.” Stark said mildly.    
Peter’s face burned. He pushed past the man, forcing distance between Stark and his desk, and set down the DVD player. “Yeah. Well, I uh, ah...look. I didn’t- HUH?!”

He yelped, voice going high and cracking mortifyingly, when a finger hooked the back of his collar and tugged him closer to Stark; the man, his icon who he might have once had posters of on his wall, leaned down and pressed his nose against the back of his neck. He felt him breathe in, the whisper of hot breath skittering over his bare skin and the minute flare of Stark’s nose; the hair on the back of Peter’s neck and arms raised. Starked exhaled and heat spread over Peter’s body, pooled in his stomach, and his skin tightened, tingled. 

It was a lot like when his ‘internal spider alarm’ went off right before someone tried to shoot or stab him, but less loud distracting alarm bells to go with the physical reaction and more muted ringing in his ears. His knees shook like they no longer wanted to hold him up and when he sucked in a breath through his mouth he tasted...something. Dark, a little bitter, smokey and metallic and thick like syrup, spreading over his tongue and filling up his nose and lungs. 

His heart was racing. 

What was-

Peter was so startled he couldn’t even move or pull away (and he could, of course. He could have pushed Stark right through the wall if he wanted to) when he was pushed forward, right against the edge of his desk. Stark followed, finger still hooked into his collar and tugging his shirt down some, and crowded against his back. Another sniff at his neck and Stark sighed loudly. 

“You’re an omega.” Peter blinked down at the barely organized chaos of his desk, tongue too heavy to work right away. In the time it took him to pull a thought together Stark’s hand moved around to grasp him by the chin and turn his head first to the left then the right. “And unmarked.” 

Well. Yeah. Of course he was. “I’m not old enough to be mated?” 

“Depends on who you ask.” Stark said, finally letting him go. “But I meant family markings. You don’t have a family alpha?” 

Was he shaking? Peter felt like he was shaking. He turned his head to watch Stark move away from him, noting distantly that the man had picked up a yardstick and was frowning at his ceiling. “Uh. No. We don’t have an alpha.” 

There was the familiar pang in his chest that came whenever he thought of Uncle Ben but he put it aside in favor of stumbling over to his bed and sitting down. His head was swimming, heavy on his shoulders and all his thoughts sluggish in a way he didn’t think they’d ever been before. He felt so...strange. 

Stark made a nondescript noise, sighed again. “I hope you at least made that onesie bite proof.” 

“Onesie?” 

Stark looked at him askance, rolled his eyes, and slammed the end of the yardstick against the ceiling. Right against the entrance to the crawl space no one should know was there let alone be looking at twice and- Peter forgot how to breathe when his suit came tumbling out, dangling accusingly from the rope he used to keep it tied up. Stark poked it with the stick. Peter stared, mouth open at what had to be his entire life falling apart in front of his eyes, then swallowed hard. 

“That’s not mine.” 

“Seriously? That’s what you’re going with right now?” 

“...it’s not a onesie. Don’t call it that.”

“Onesie. You make this yourself...spiderlad? The vigilante spider? Great Spider-” 

“Spiderman.” Peter croaked. 

Tony’s eyebrow quirked. “Right. You do good work kid.”    
“...thanks?” 

“But this isn’t going to cut it.” Stark tugged the suit down, grimacing as he turned it this way and that. Peter was torn between the urge to rip it away from the man and sink down and hide his face. Tony Stark had built his first Ironman suit in a cave, near fatally injured and with limited resources, and it had been amazing. All Peter had to show after six months, and without anyone threatening to kill him on a daily basis, was...that. “Can you even see through these things and- you’ve got nothing in the neck? At all? What if some alpha bites you, kid?” 

Peter shook his head in an attempt to clear it. “Why...why would someone do that?” 

For starters no one could even tell he was an omega most of the time. He hadn’t had his first heat so his scent was still underdeveloped and weak, easily overridden by all the other scents out there in the world. So much so that he hadn’t even thought anything of inviting Stark into his room, the one place in the world his scent would be obvious. Faint as it was, with it covering every surface in the place, overlapping on his bedsheets and clothes even a weak nosed beta would be able to put the pieces together. 

Not that he was hiding his secondary sex. It just wasn’t someone he was worried about people picking up on the street or anything. And even if they did who would want *him*. He was plain, not curvy or soft like omegas were supposed to be, was sweet or delicate or cute, alphas didn’t really flock to him or anything. There were better options out there. 

“I don’t know, why would someone want to get an omega who can stop moving cars, take on multiple attackers at once, stick to walls, and go swinging around the city-this webbing is pretty impressive by the way. Who manufactures it?- under their thumb.” 

Peter caught the tossed vial of webfluid on reflex, flushing again under the casual praise. “I do, but...I don’t need bite protection. Besides, that stuff is-” What was the word? “Archaic. Omegas shouldn’t need to be marked by their family, or mate, to keep other alphas away. Alphas should just be decent enough to stay away, and not go around hurting people, without omegas having to do things to protect themselves.” 

Stark smiled at him. Peter’s stomach clenched. “That’s adorable.” 

“Wha-” 

“Stupid, but adorable. That settles it.” His suit was tossed in the general direction of his dirty clothes hamper. “You need an upgrade, a total hundred percent overhaul and I am- do you have a passport? Ever been to Germany?” 

“No?” 

“You’re going to love it. Get packed kid, I’m going to talk to your aunt.” 

“Wait!” Peter jumped up, setting aside his reeling brain and confusion. “You can’t tell Aunt May about this! About me! She’ll freak out and then I’ll freak out and we’ll both be freaking out and you don’t want that, it’s awful, especially if we both start crying and I have homework, I can’t just skip school, I’m this close to getting detention for all my-”

Stark narrowed his eyes slightly. “You, packing. Don’t make me say it again, and I won’t have to say anything to your surprisingly attractive aunt.” 

Peter jumped then, mouth working but no sound coming out, nodded. Stark’s voice, the words, were dark velvet over steel and he felt them hit him right in the gut, take hold with hooks and all the arguments in his head, on his tongue, were washed away. He packed, listening with half an ear as low murmurs from the living room became Aunt May’s voice rising sharply mixed with a low rumbling growl, back to muffled mumbling then-

His door opened and Stark poked his head in. “Time to go kid. Plane’s waiting.” 

Aunt May, face white and eyes dark and wide, hugged him tightly by the door. She didn’t say anything when she let him go, just glared at Stark standing behind him, then smiled at Peter shakily before stepping back and waving them off with a strange strained smile.

Peter got the distinct feeling it would be a while before he was back and that his good day was maybe now officially a very very weird day. 

A hand clamped onto the back of his neck and Peter nearly tripped over his feet in shock. No one touched his neck, not since Uncle Ben had stopped scent marking him (at Peter’s insistence) back in middle school. It was almost familiar, a wide rough hand touching his nape, a wrist against his skin transferring an alpha’s scent. But his skin heated, tingled, and a shiver raced down his spine, and once again his belly felt hot and tight. 

It wasn't really like with Uncle Ben at all. 

  
  



End file.
